These Are Our Stories
by 5SecondsOfAddy
Summary: Everyone has their own stories. But these six teenagers have inspiring, heartbreaking, and motivating stories about the hardships of life, and how to stay strong in the midst of it all.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone! Another new story?! Yeah, I know, I know. I apologize for being so inactive lately. Not my fault. Well kinda, but you get the point xD. **

**With the creation of this story, I am sorry to say that Lost & Found: Secrets of Oona, will be discontinued. I needed to get rid of one story to focus on this one, and I decided to delete that one since it basically talks about the same topic**

**These are basically stories from six teenagers (The Bubble Guppies, obviously xD.), who all have hardships in their lives. Some of the stories might not be the most... ****_appealing, _****but.. The show must go on! **

**Btw, they are human in this story~!**

**NOTE: I do ****_not_**** own the Bubble Guppies. Credit goes to the creators of the show.**

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Chapter 1: Listen.

_Nonny Pirruccello, Age 16_

_I heard voices. Voices in my head that told me that this was right. That I deserved it. That the world would be much better off without my existence. _

_I was completely_ isolated._ Alone. Scared. Would I die? Who would save me? Does anyone care? I knew good and well what the answers were: Yes. No. No. I knew it, but I didn't show it._

_Each cut was a symbol: Worthless. Useless. Ugly. Unable to be loved. Hated. Pathetic. Nerd. Loser. Ungrateful. As soon as I came home from school, it was time to cut. Time to show the world that I was capable of something. Time to clean up the blood that ran. Time to hide the cuts from everyone. Time to act like I was okay._

_But I know that I'm not okay. I have a problem. I am hurt. I am going crazy. At this point, I don't care if I die anymore. People always say stuff such as slitting your throat, hanging yourself or overdosing is an easy way to kill yourself immediately. But I don't do it. I don't even know why. It's like I want to live a long, painful life. A long, sinful life. _

_And at this point: __**I don't care.**_

_**Molly Gentilella, Age 16**_

_**She screamed. She fought. Her fits lasted for ****hours****. And when she wasn't having a fit, she was in the corner, playing with marbles. She refused to go to bed, she refused to eat unless we were serving certain foods, she refused to laugh or even crack a smile, nothing. She wasn't normal, and that's what hurt me the most.**_

_**Her name is Landia Gentilella. My 11 year old sister. My 11 year old ****autistic ****sister. The girl who I looked up to for being so strong for so many years. The girl who my parents refused to acknowledge as a child. The girl that everyone thought was a burden to our town, a nuisance. As if they have never seen a mentally sick child.**_

_**I had grown to be her mother ever since her autism started getting worse. "Molly, go get your sister", or, "Molly, calm that child down!", were constant demands that came from my parents. I had grown to love her. I treated her like she was a normal child. Everyone else treated her like she was a wild animal. Even her own blood. AKA, My parents.**_

_**Even if I am only 16 years old, I have to go through the full parent experience. But I'd do anything for my sister. Anything.**_

**Gil, Age 16**

**It's been two months. Two months since I've got up and left. And ever since then, I've been miserable. Roaming around the streets, sleeping in the rain, getting kicked out of parks sometimes, which were usually my sleeping spots, wearing worn out clothes, being looked to as a thug. **

**But I was tired of it. Tired of being an orphan. Tired of only seeing my biological parents when there was visiting times in jail, or when they felt like coming, which meant that they would only visit me once for about a few minutes. I was tired of being looked down on by the others. I was tired of having to move around almost every year. I was tired of it. All of it.**

**So I looked Miss Mariam in the face one day, and I said "I'm leaving you, and this shitty place, and never coming back!". And that was that. I took my bookbag and my leather jacket and ran off. They searched for me for three days, then gave up, probably thinking that the Juvenial hall would pick me up any moment now.**

**But it's been two months. Two long months.**

**Deema Wahler, age 15**

**They always find something to argue about. The beer cans that didn't make it to the trash, the lack of water bottles in the house, the centric air being on, even about who ate all of the poptarts! It's just like they lost their spark. They might not know it, but it affects me too.**

**Hitting each other, calling each other names, storming out of the house and not returning until a few days or weeks later, and ignoring me. It seems like this is what my parents do all the time. All of the time. It's come to the point where we don't even celebrate holidays anymore, with the lame excuse "I'm sorry Deema, I forgot.". **

**They've been "forgetting" for three years now.**

**A new hobby for my Dad is going to strip clubs, getting drunk, and taking it out on my mom. Slaps, punches, vulgar language, and ending up on the couch are exactly what happens when he returns. It's as if he stopped loving the family altogether.**

**My mom, on the other hand, works her ass off as an Elementary school secretary, with a waitress job at Denny's on the side. If anything, she is more deserving than my father ever was. Even if she does ignore me, I know that she is working hard to keep this family together. Unlike my father. Who is trying to split this family apart, obviously.**

**Remembering when I was six, and how my mom and dad loved each other so much, and loved me so much, and took great care of me, hurts. Because I know that my family might not ever go back to being that way.**

**Never.**

Oona Shaskan, age 15

Hello, my name is Oona. And I have Childhood Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. I was diagnosed with it when I was seven or eight years old, and all I really remember is that it has stuck around with me since then. Mulitple visits to doctors, chemotherapy, I'm used to it all. 

I barely go to school anymore. And if I do, I put a cap on my head, only to be stared at and felt sorry for, for almost the whole day. People ask if it hurts. People ask if I have the possibility of ever feeling better, ever again. 

But it hurts. Alot. It hurts to know that I could die at any moment. It hurts to know that my family can't do anything about it. It hurts to know that my childhood was lost, to hosptial visits and surgeries. It hurts to know that I won't be able to fall in love. Because I'm a cancer patient and the closest thing I'll ever have to true love is my family and others who support my well-being.

Every now and then, I wonder if I'll ever have the possibility of feeling better. If I could ever be "normal" again. If I could last atleast a month or two without one doctor visit. If I actually won't die.  


But I'll never know, unless I stay strong.

Goby Imani, age 16

Alchohol and drugs mess people up in many ways, right? Hangovers, getting high, possibly arrested, doing stupid things, doing things that you won't remember the following day.

Well, for my parents, drugs and alchohol make them angry.

And who do they take their anger out on?

Me. Their only child.

Locked in the closet or in the basement for the whole day, lack of food, beatings, insults, even being burned if I did something that is considered "extremely" bad. Such as yelling for help, talking back, or not responding immediately to their calls. They even make me stay home from school for a week or two to torture me in the closet. In which, I get whipped with a rope, burned, and even cut. And when I do go to school, I have to wear baggy clothes and sneakers with my toe sticking out. To top it off, I am only allowed to take 2 minute showers on Sundays.

But when they are "sober", they don't hit me at all. They ignore me, and feed me very little. Such as half of a sandwich and some juice. But I'm grateful, because as long as I'm with these maniacs, that is all I'll really recieve.

But everyday, I ask myself the same question:

What happened to the kind, loving parents I originally had?

**_Six different stories, six different experiences, and six different teenages._**

**_All staying strong to bare through the hardships of life._**

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**And.. DONE! Shoutout to Authorgirl12, Amberstone12 and Princess Caveia 1234, who supported me in the making of this fanfiction. Also, I understand that the content might be too much to handle, but this is a fanfiction based on inspiring stories from 6 fictional characters. I hope you like this fanficition and make some good connections.**

**Bye-cha-ko!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! I hope you guys are enjoying this story so far. I am putting alot of effort into the making of this fanfiction, so... Enjoy! Shoutout (AGAIN) to Amberstone12, Authorgirl12 and Princess Caveia 1234 for giving me some ideas for future chapters and stuff. Thank you!**

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Chapter 2: "Parents".

_Nonny Pirrucello_

_"John, please go check on your son.". I heard mom's plea all the way from upstairs._

_Check on your son. Meaning: Talk to him about stuff he'll never be interested in, such as cars, gas station work, and sports. Ask him about any current or future relationships. Ask him about school work. Tell him that his parents "love him". The same routine everyday._

_"Nicole, I honestly think that he wants to be left alone. He never cares about what I have to say, anyways.". So **now** he gets it. _

_It's quite funny though, considering the fact that they don't know about my cuts at all. They probably think that I'm going all "emo" on them, or that I'm going through the typical teenage phase, "I hate my parents, they're lame.". But they're so wrong._

_They don't understand the pain I go through nearly everyday. Then again, **no one does**._

_**Molly Gentilella**_

_**Landia is at her Weekend Special Ed. classes, so I have the house to myself for three hours, since my parents are at work. **_

_**However, I'm not relaxing at all.**_

_**The night before, I overheard "Mom" and "Dad" (Well, Lidra and Juanito), talking about sending Landia to a special boardinghouse for autistic children in New York, and keeping her there until she is 18. **_

_**They say that it's "the best choice for the family". So I can focus on school, so that there won't be anymore two hour fits, so there won't be any messes caused by tantrums.**_

_**It disgusts me that my parents are actually considering this. Her Special Ed. classes are somewhat doing good for her, so she doesn't need to go to some boardinghouse all the way in New York! I know that she's autistic, but her situation is better than most other kids. And it's not even her fault that she has the disorder, anyways! It's like they're shunning her from the family! Over a disorder that she doesn't have much control over!**_

_**I look down at Landia's marbles, which she spilled last night from last night's tantrum, because Mom pushed her on "accident". **_

_**I realize how much of a good little girl she is, despite her autism. How she never intends on having anything bad happen. How she's practically normal like the rest of us, but no one except me treats her like it.**_

_**I realize how much I need to help her.**_

**Gil Gordon**

**I remember living with Miss Mariam and three other kids back and my first and last foster home. Despite there being only four kids there, everyday was pretty much filled with fighting, screaming, and yelling.**

**Zane, the five year old, was always picking fights with Nelly, the seven year old. Which led to the throwing of toys, punching, kicking, foul language, and Miss Mariam eventually breaking up the fighting and yelling at all four of us.**

**Darius, who was my age, was more of a rebellious guy who snuck out of the house on the weekends to go to stupid parties, get drunk, get high, have sex, well, you get the point. I never really "clicked" with the guy. I never even considered him to be "cool". Every week, there was a new girl he was seeing. Every week, there was a girl's heart he was breaking. **

**Miss Mariam often left him in charge when he was gone, since he was "two months older than me". Which was when the manipulation began. He would lock Nelly and Zane in a room together, which would be chaos, and try to get me to follow him. **

**After rejecting his requests for beers and cigarettes, he finally got a clue. And he didn't like it one bit. He decided to make my life a living hell, by trying to get me in trouble with Miss Mariam all the time, and he almost even got me admitted into a Juvenial Hall.**

**And that's when I had the final straw. And that's why I'm on the streets now.**

**Deema Wahler**

**"Aira, you know, sometimes I wonder _why_ I even had a child with you and got married to you in the first place!".**

**Okay,_ that_ hurts. I don't really understand why at first, but it does. It's not like he can go back to the past, and stop himself from falling in love with my Mom. Right?**

**Then I understand why. Because all the times he told me that he loves me and all the times he told me that he didn't regret having a "lovely daughter like me" at all. Looks like the story is changing now, right?**

**If you think that I'm hurt, you should have seen my mom's reaction!**

**"Really Jackson?" My mom's voice began to rise, "So you don't care about Deema at all?"**

**"Neither do you, bitch! Don't put this all on me!'. But you said it, "Dad".**

**"Get. Out. Of. My. House.". Looks like Dad blew it. I can hear a divorce calling!**

**I hear the front door slam, and mom walking up the stairs. By the look on her face when she comes into my room, I can tell that she's about to start crying any moment now.**

**She doesn't say anything at first, she just walks over to my bed and pulls me into a hug. And we sit there, crying. Crying because of the hurt. Crying because we know that my "Dad" doesn't care about us at all.**

**"I'm sorry Deema, but me and your father...".**

Oona Shaskan

"Oona, is anything hurting?" It's the fifth time this whole day that my mom has asked me this. I sigh, annoyed with all of her questions. "No mom, I'm fine. Jeez, stop worrying so much! I'm the one who has it, and _I'm_ not even that worried!" Oops, I lied.

Mom chuckles and joins me on the couch. "I just.. I just worry about you sometimes, you know?". I nod my head, too tired to reply. I'm tired of being sick. I'm tired of being worried about. I just want to be _normal_. Even my own flesh and blood can't make me feel normal. 

"I hope you know that you're going to school tomorrow" Perfect way to ruin a good Sunday. "But _Mom_-" "No '_buts_'. You missed out alot, and your finals are in three weeks. You have to go back to school.".

I roll my eyes. _Finals_. The most stressful things in high school, along with other important tests. Maybe I can be excused, since I missed over 20 days of school? No way. I need to pass the 10th grade.

"Honey, don't worry. In five more weeks, school will be out." But doctor visits and surgeries won't be, right? Without replying, I get up from the couch and storm into my room. 

_I'm tired._

Goby Imani

I hide in the closet, knowing that Mom and Dad will be coming back from their drunk poker game any minute now.

_Too soon._

I can hear their footsteps and their voices.

"Where's that idiot son of ours?" They're talking about me, of course.

"Goby! Come down here!". I curl into a ball, feeling small like I do almost everyday. I sob quietly, shaking, knowing that I'm all alone. That no one will come to save me. I know that they're trying to put me in the closet. It's closet time if I don't obey them. It's closet time if I don't obey them.

I hide under my bed, making short, steady breaths. They never check under my bed for some reason. They only check in the bathroom and in the closet. Like I'd be in there when I know that I'm about to get a good beating.

They stop calling for me. They're not coming up the stairs. They go back to their poker game.

But I stay under the bed, for my own safety.

**_Parents are Parents. You always have to love them, right? Wrong._**

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**And... done! Thanks for reading! **

**Bye-cha-ko!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Another quick update, huh? I know, I'm lagging behind on my other stories, but they won't be left out! G&G will be updated soon. As for Glory Days, Chapter 5 will be changed. But I'm only one person, so I can only do so much. But hang in there!**

**I have some readers asking me when this story will get "happier". Listen. This story wasn't meant to be all happy and laughs and smiles. It takes about the hardships that real people have to/had to go through everyday. But of course, life always gets better in the end. So you'll just have to hang tight, alright?**

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Chapter: "School."

_Nonny Pirrucello_

_As usual, I skip 3rd period. Which is Science. Which is the class that I have the lowest grade in, with an 82. Which isn't good enough for my parents, apparently. _

_I sit on the stairs, where my 3rd period teacher and classmates won't be able to see me. And I'm relieved, because I'm not interested in anything they have to say. _

_"Oh, you should go to class. You're too smart to be skipping.". "Do you think that you're bad? Name one actually bad thing that you've done.". "I hope that you don't get caught by the principal. There's cameras, you know.". _

_They act as if I really care; But I don't._

_I start to hear a strange noise. It sounds like... __**sobbing**__ noises. I look up from my book and turn my attention to the bottom of the stairs._

_There's a girl.__** Crying**__._

**_Molly Gentilella_**

**_The lunch bell rang. As I exited the classroom, Ms. Peterson stopped me._**

**_"Molly, Gil, please stay behind.". Gil? Gil Gordon? So he finally decided to come to school today?_**

**_He looked like a slob and he was basically on the verge of being called a "drop-out"._**

**_"You two need to catch up ," Ms. Peterson, "Finals are in two weeks, and you're failing nearly every class. You can either stay afterschool every Wednesday, or you can stay for lunch. Your choice."._**

**_My jaw literally dropped. I'm failing?! I only missed about twelve or thirteen days of school this year, which isn't much compared to last year's attendance, and I usually make up all of the work I miss! How can I be failing?!_**

**_On the other hand, Gil had a different reaction._**

**_"Bullshit!" Gil snapped, "I'm not missing lunch or staying afterschool!". Without a single reply from anyone, he storms out of the classroom. I stared at Ms. Peterson in awe. Why didn't she do anything? _**

**_"Molly, please go get him" She signed, shaking her head in disapproval. Without arguing back, despite me not wanting to go get the sleeze ball at all, I went. "I can't keep dealing with this." I heard her mutter as I walked out the door._**

**_I found him on the bench near the front doors. He stared at his dirty sneakers, until I got close enough to sit next to him. He looked up at me, his eyes glazed._**

**_"Listen..." I started._**

**Gil Gordon**

**I look up at the girl, Molly Gentilella, not interested in anything she has to say to me. **

**"... I know that you don't want to do afterschool or miss lunch, but you have to if you want to go to 11th grade.".**

**Eleventh grade? I don't care about school! I care about taking care of myself, while I roam the streets. I care about finding my little brother, Yindel, who I was separated from when I got put into a home. I care about finding my _real_ parents, who apparently spent four years in rehab. At this point, I don't care about school!**

**"I mean, I have an eleven year old to take care of.".**

**I looked up, and smirked. "You had a kid when you were five?". immediately, I saw her face get red with embarrassment.**

**"No, it's my sister," She explained, "She's autistic and my parents don't feel like taking care of her.".**

**So she has parents like mine. Parents who can't handle responsibility. Parents that abandon their kids, to take care of themselves. Irresponsible, selfish, lazy parents.**

**"And I live on the streets." As sarcastic as I wanted to sound, it didn't work. Molly started at me in awe, looking at me up and down. How could she not suspect that? Most people think that I'm poor or just some gross kid, anyways.**

**But how could I just tell that to a girl that I never really showed any interest in? I just got to know her, for Christs sakes! But since it's "sharing time", why not?**

**"Y-your family's..." I cut her off before she could even finish.**

**"I've been an orphan since I was four. I ran away from my foster home a few months ago." I kick at the group, even though there's nothing in front of me. **

**What was I thinking? Telling her all of this 'classified' information? **

**"Oh, I apologize," Molly replied, getting out of her awkward phase, "You can come to my house for a while, if you want to.". _Really?_ She was just going to invite me over to her house, just like that?**

**"But you barely know me." I pointed out. Was she really going to take a risk like that?**

**"Yeah, I know... But there's a first for everything!" Molly exclaimed. I gave her a sheepish smile, and unconsciously grabbed her hand. I could feel myself heating up by the touch.**

**Molly Gentilella! A girl who I've always had a bad impression on. A girl who I thought was shallow, insensitive, and cold-hearted.**

**And now I'm going to her house and holding her hand.**

**Deema Wahler**

**"Hey, where are you going?"**

**I could hear Brick Hanley's voice all the way down the hall. **

**Brick Hanley, best known for being one of the school's biggest bullies and a terrible ladies man. I should know. He tried to hit on me for most of 8th grade. Then he finally got a clue, and started hitting on Milli Richards, the biggest airhead on the planet.**

**I walked down the hall, trying to find out what was going on. ****He was probably hitting on a girl.**

**When I came to the scene however, I could not believe my eyes.**

**Brick was kicking some kid in his ribs, spitting things like "Poor boy!" and "Little bitch!" at him.**

**The sight of it enraged me. I _hate_ bullying.**

**"Brick Hanley! You better let him go!"**

Oona Shaskan

I buried my face in my knees. I couldn't take this anymore. I felt like I wasn't even a human being. I felt like I didn't even everyone staring at me, it made it impossible to feel welcome.

I heard someone walking down the stairs. Great, more unwanted attention.

"What do you want?" I snapped. It was a boy with orange hair and navy blue glasses. Under his glasses were the prettiest green eyes I've ever seen in my whole entire life.

But still, I wanted to be alone. I didn't want anyone trying to help me or even try to start a conversation.

"You're that girl with leukemia." He said, gasping. Wow, how nice!

"Thanks, great way to make me feel normal." I replied sarcastically, shifting away from him. Couldn't he just realize that I wanted to be left alone, and just leave?

"Oh, I'm sorry," You could tell that he was embarrassed, "I'm Nonny, nice to meet you.". He held out his hand for a handshake, which I refused to give him.

"I'm Oona, AKA the girl with leukemia." I chuckled, realizing how that stupid label would follow me around for the rest of my High School years and probably in College. Nonny arched an eyebrow, probably baffled at me making fun of myself.

"So why were you crying?" Nonny asked, a little more seriously. I didn't want to answer that question. Actually, I didn't even know how to answer it. Was it because I was tired of being sick? Was it because I was tired of being worried about all the time? What was it?

"_Nothing._" I mumbled, still trying to figure out the reason myself. "Are you sure?" Nonny smirked, "People don't cry over 'nothing'." I wanted to just tell him to 'Go Away'or to stop pestering me, but I couldn't. There was something different about him. It was as if... he actually cared. I never made friends in school, since I was absent most of the time, and even if I came to school, I wanted to be alone. He genuinely cared about me.

But why? I was just a Nobody, who was diagnosed with Leukemia when she was younger, and I barely leave my house, unless I am 'healthy' enough to leave the house.

There was a long silence. Nonny swung his arms back and forth, just waiting for something to be said. I noticed his sleeves go up, and... there were marks. Cuts. Cuts that looked like they were done with a knife.

"Are those... cuts?" As soon as I asked the question, Nonny pulled his sleeves down frantically. He didn't answer me. His face was red.

"You're lucky, you know," I grumbled harshly, "_You_ don't have a life threatening disease.". It pissed me off. What could possibly be wrong with him? From the looks of it, no one ever bothered him. What could be wrong?

"Yeah, I know." Without even glancing at me, Nonny got up and walked away. 

I felt like crap. I shouldn't have said anything.

Goby Imani

"Brick Hanley! You better let go of him!".

I looked up. It was a girl with wild blonde curls and pretty blue eyes. She looked familiar. I've seen her before... in 5th period, I believe.

"You see honey," Brick finally ceased his kicking session, "We're just finishing some unfinished buisness.". Despite me being very weak, I still rolled my eyes.

"You're a horrible liar. Did you know that?" The girl played with her hair and smirked. I grinned at her bravery. No one ever stood up to Brick Hanley before! Boy or girl, he'd still get back at you.

"You know babe," Brick put his around around her, "You shouldn't worry about _poor boy_. Worry about the more important things in life, like dating me.". Yeah, because Brick has had a relationship that has lasted longer than three days.

"You know, 'babe'," The girl mocked him, "You shouldn't be so arrogant. You're not all that good looking.". She removed his arms fro her sholder, and bent down to help me. _Me_.

"Whatever." Brick huffed, and stormed off.

"Hey, are you alright? I'm sorry about him, he's an asshole." Brick's been bullying me since 7th grade. I am well aware of him being an asshole.

"Oh, silly me, I forgot to introduce myself," The girl exclaimed as she helped me up, "I'm Deema Wahler. And you are...?". I gave her a blank stare. At home, I was known as "stupid son" and "usless". At school, I was known as "poor boy". Who was I?

"U-uh... Goby Imani." Goby Imani. The name I was born with. The name everyone called me until the abuse started.

"We should go to the Nur-" "No!". We were both shocked by my outburst. "I mean.. I'm fine.". I tried to walk away, but Deema blocked me.

"No, we're getting you to the Nurse.".

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**And... Scene! Thanks for reading! Yes, they finally meet! But eventually, all six of them will become friends. Doesn't that sound great?**

**Also... It's NOONA month! I am going to start working on a twoshot for Noona month. Please stay tuned!**

**Bye-cha-ko!**


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